


Spectre Training for Dummies

by GlowSpikes



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Dear god I've never posted any of my writing, I still have no clue what I'm doing, M/M, Pre-Canon, RIP me, Slow Burn, i guess?, naughty authors get the writers block
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 20:32:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9459365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlowSpikes/pseuds/GlowSpikes
Summary: Nihlus Kryik is on the verge of being kicked out of the military. He's a brilliant fighter, but a shit soldier. He's given a second chance in the form of a silver plated turian- the Spectre Saren Arterius. How does one navigate the anomaly that is Saren? The answer is simple: trial and error.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to @NoisyNoiverns for being my beta!

Tired eyes strained to see in the dark barracks- Nihlus's unit mates were on shore leave, and he'd been confined to the base as punishment for disobeying orders again. He should be used to this by now, but each time only served to drive a deeper wedge between himself and his superior officers. Yeah, he'd gone against a direct order, but he'd saved lives! Didn't that mean anything? The young turian's mandibles flicked angrily, subvocals thrumming in frustration. Nihlus's hands shook slightly as he wrapped a bandage around a nasty burn on his inner wrist, the result of an overheating thermal clip. He needed to be more careful about that, but in the heat of a firefight, he wanted to squeeze every last shot from his weapons. He shook his head, letting out a heavy sigh. His career felt like it was already over, and he'd only been in the military for three years.

Perhaps it was the fact that he hadn't grown up on Palaven, or in a traditional turian colony that made it so hard for him to fit in. Nihlus had spent his childhood surrounded by mercenaries and hitmen. His own father and brother had been mercenaries, in fact- that was how they'd been killed when he was only 16. Nihlus had intended to follow in their footsteps, but after their deaths, his mother had forced him to join the military. He'd never wanted this, but now he was here and he could only seem to mess up. What did it matter if he didn't follow orders? Nihlus knew he got results. That should be the only thing that mattered. Even if it did alienate him from his peers. Not that he cared about that too much, anyways- interacting with other people felt like such a chore, one he was ill equipped for. Give him a gun and a near-impossible mission any day, Nihlus would take it over a conversation any day. His words never felt natural and he couldn't seem to grasp the jokes and sarcasm that his fellow soldiers seemed to wield with ease. It had always been like that, though, from as early as he could remember.

Nihlus closed his eyes, calmed and reassured by the sensation of the low purr of his subvocals in his throat. Setting the bandage package aside, he grabbed his ankles and began to rock back and forth on his bunk. The metal frame creaked lightly, but he ignored it. There was nobody around to complain. Perhaps he should write to his mother, or even just let her know he was alive. Nihlus hadn't spoken to her since the day she shipped him off, too angry to even look at her. He regretted not even seeking one last hug. Could he write to her, though? What would he say? 'Hi, mom. I keep fucking up and I hate it here, I think I'm going to be dumped on another squad again soon! How are you? Have the Blue Suns destroyed our outpost yet?' No, better to keep her in the dark. After this long, it would be easier for both of them for him to remain estranged.

His datapad beeped, startling Nihlus out of thought. Dropping one mandible, he picked it up and swiped open the alert. His stomach twisted- he'd been summoned to speak to his commanding officer. Nihlus had suspected this was coming, in truth. After he'd gone off on his own to single-handedly destroy an enemy platoon last week, it had only been a matter of time before he was reassigned. He pulled on his boots and exhaled in an attempt to steel himself for the inevitable tongue lashing that was to come.

When Nilus arrived at General Verikus's office, the door slid open automatically. He, of course, had expected the General's stony expression, but certainly not the silver plated turian standing beside his desk. Nihlus's brow plates quirked. "Sir...?" he asked, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. Though he could see no insignia or rank on the stranger, Nihlus suspected he was more than a civilian. There was something about the absolute stillness with which he stood, the way he carried himself. Had he been wrong about being reassigned? Was he being discharged? A thousand thoughts raced through Nihlus's heads, his mandibles trembling with tension before he managed to still himself. If he was to be discharged, then he wouldn't let anyone see how upset he was.

"Kryik," General Verikus motioned to the chair in front of his desk. Hesitantly, Nihlus sat. The chair was, of course, designed to accommodate the carapace of turians. "Relax, soldier. You aren't in trouble this time."

What a rare occurrence, Nihlus thought with a hint of dark humor.

"I'm Saren Arterius, a Spectre." the stranger spoke, piercing eyes focused directly on Nihlus. "I've heard a fair amount about you, and have read through your files. You've been having ... trouble acclimatizing to the military, clearly."

Uh-oh. Not in trouble, my ass. Nihlus's expression must have given away his uncertainty, because Saren's mandibles flicked in a somewhat casual manner. A subtle movement, yes, but one that was reassuring to him. He'd forced himself to learn body language and what it meant in certain situations. Something like that in such a militaristic, formal environment wouldn't happen without purpose, would it? If Saren was at ease enough for it, perhaps Nihlus wasn't in as much shit as he thought. What's a Spectre, of all things, doing here, though? Why is he reading my files?

"I'll put it straight with you, Nihlus Kryik. You're a candidate for the Spectres, and I'm here to assess your aptitude. Obviously, you have the skills, but I need to see them in person to make a final decision. The training process will take at least a year. We'll be doing multiple missions together, and at the end of it, you'll either become a Spectre or you will be returned to the military. That is, if you agree to this," Saren explained.

Nihlus didn't even need time to think, though. A chance to escape the constant orders and rules? Spectres didn't have to deal with those- they could use any methods, because all that mattered was results. He nodded silently, before finding his voice. "Yes. I would be honored to do this." he managed, sneaking a glance at General Verikus. The tan plated turian was clearly relieved, though evidently trying (and failing) to hide it. He's glad to get me out of his crest, I bet. I... can't blame him.

"Good." Saren nodded, subvocals conveying he was pleased at Nihlus's response. "Gather your belongings and meet me in the docking bay, your commanding officer has taken care of your transfer orders. We're leaving immediately." he told Nihlus, before sweeping out of the office. Nihlus was left breathless and speechless, stunned at the turn of events. He looked up at the clock- had that only been five minutes?

He didn’t have much in the way of belongings to pack, and what little he had usually stayed organized and neat- gathering everything only took a few moments. Nihlus hefted his rucksack over his shoulder and turned around, only to find himself facing one of his squadmates. He hadn’t even heard Eris enter, but the general’s kid had always been unnecessarily stealthy. “Reassigned, Kryik?” the azure marked turian raised a brow plate. They almost seemed disappointed- Eris had never formed relationships with the other members of the squad, either- the mutual loneliness had been a sort of bond on its own. 

“Sort of,” Nihlus nodded. “I’m apparently a candidate for the Spectres.” 

“The Spectres?” Eris repeated, their subvocals thrumming with impressed incredulity. “So you’re…?”

“Leaving, yes. I might be back, though, if I fail the training period.” 

Eris’s mandibles twitched and they nodded. “Well… good luck, Kryik. I can’t say I envy you, my father says you have to watch you back around Spectres… you can never tell what they’ll do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short, so please forgive me- I'm still getting my bearings with this writing thing.


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